


Baker's Dozen

by Sue_Denham



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, It's a slow crime day in Sheffield, To the rest of the world she's an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sue_Denham/pseuds/Sue_Denham
Summary: With the Doctor out of town, Yaz is back to the day job, and it's not living up to expectations. One call changes that.“Said I’d be back… here I am.” She lifted her hands up and her smile dropped as the cuffs came into view. “You’re probably wondering about all this. Misunderstanding. Easily sorted. Probably.”
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When an idea hits you on the walk into work - you have to go with it, right? Very early S11 placing. (We all have to start somewhere.)

It had been a particularly dull week in the life of PC Yasmin Khan. If she ever got around to drawing up a chart of the most boring weeks of her life, she was fairly certain that this one was going to feature somewhere near the top. The holiday in Whitley Bay would always be there for obvious reasons, but this week might actually edge out of the top three the mind-numbing boredom of being stuck in her room as a kid when she’d had a full on bout of the measles. 

She’d been on earlies for five days so far and there was never anything interesting that went down during an early shift. Sure there were still incidents to be called to and statements to be taken. But a combination of warm air and bright blue skies, full of the promise that summer was just around the corner, seemed to be bringing out the best in people. A situation which in most circumstances would be welcome, but when your job was maintaining the peace, having it too boringly peaceful in the first place just made the day drag.

She glanced at her watch. Was it too early to call refs? It was likely to be the only distraction from the monotony and, despite what the duty sergeant kept telling her, the patrol car was not the most comfortable place to while away a few hours. She shifted in her seat and lowered the window, breathing in the warm clear air. It was a beautiful day, but it was a beautiful dull day. It was a beautiful dull day devoid of the Doctor.

She’d been gone for well over a week now. Yaz had looked out of her window ten days ago and the TARDIS had simply not been there. She’d tried Graham and Ryan, but they’d not heard anything either. It wasn’t exactly the first time the Doctor had gone off on her own, but her absences were usually preceded by long, swiftly delivered explanations, most of which sailed straight over Yaz’s head. This time however there had been no warning, no preamble, she’d just gone. Graham in particular had been quick to reassure her that she’d come back; that she’d not vanished out of their lives forever without saying anything, but there was a persistent nagging doubt at the back of Yaz’s mind; a quiet voice that told her they might just have seen the last of that battered old blue box and its impossible owner.

Her personal phone buzzed angrily, demanding her attention, dragging her out of her reverie. She fished it out of a Velcro sealed pouch on her belt and frowned as the name of one of her relief flashed up. If they wanted her during work time, why didn’t they just use the Airwave? And why of all people did it have to be Patrick? Why couldn’t it be a member of the relief that she actually got on with. She stared at the screen for a few more seconds before finally relenting.

“Hi Patrick. What can I do for you?” She tried to sound pleased to hear from him, but doubted the effort was enough.

“Yaz?” Patrick’s voice at the other end of the call was hesitant, as though already regretting his decision to contact her. “I’ve got something here I think you should see.”

“What’s up?” Fear immediately crept its way into her mind.

“Can you come over to Mount Pleasant Park.”

“What is it?”

“I think it’s best if you come over. Easier if I explain it in person.”

* * *

Yaz had worked herself into something of a state by the time she spotted Patrick’s patrol car. It was parked up by the Herschell Road entrance, just where he told her he’d be, its doors wide open. There were certain phrases used in her line of work when you didn’t want to worry a member of the public. The only problem was that those same words had the opposite effect when you were talking to someone else who knew exactly why you used them! “Easier if I explain it in person’ was one of those loaded phrases, as was ‘I think it’s best you come over’. It was usually code for ‘I could tell you over the phone, but I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything stupid once I’ve broken the news’.

  
Her imagination had been working overtime and she’d been expecting an ambulance in attendance at least, but as she slowed her own car to a halt at the edge of the small patch of green park and killed the engine, the only other vehicle on the scene beside Patrick’s patrol car was a local baker’s delivery van. It was as she was climbing from her car that she caught a glimpse of what looked suspiciously like a familiar splash of blond hair, and her mood changed immediately. Was she back? If she was, why was she with Patrick Robinson? She closed her eyes and let out a long steadying breath as the likely reason for Patrick not wanting to discuss the issue over the phone suddenly became a whole lot clearer.

  
“Yaz! Hiya! Oooh look at you in your work cossie! Very smart,” a voice that was unmistakably that of the Doctor’s drifted across the space between them. 

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to pretend that what was happening was actually about to happen to someone else. Her calling the day out as dull had just well and truly come back to bite her on the backside. She took another long breath, pulled her stab vest straight and walked, in what she hoped was a purposeful manner, towards Patrick’s patrol car where she could now see the Doctor was currently in residence on the back seat. She was sat side on, looking out across the gravelled parking space, her left shoulder against the upholstery, her feet firmly planted on the gravel, looking as though she was having a great day out.

Yaz glared at Patrick.

“Why did you call me over like that? I thought something terrible had happened.”

“She asked for you.” Patrick said by way of greeting, nodding back to the Doctor. “Do you know her?”

“Sort of.” 

“She wouldn’t give me a name or address but said you’d vouch for her.” Patrick grabbed her arm and drew her off to one side before she could get too close to the car. “She one of those ‘care in the community’ cases?”

“No!” She slapped his arm away, angry at the suggestion. “What’s she done? Why is she in the back of your car?”

“Because she refused to answer some pretty basic questions.”

Yaz frowned, still trying to get a sense of what was going on. “What has she done?”

“Yaz look!” The Doctor proudly held up her wrists and Yaz’s heart sank as she saw the handcuffs that were snug around her friend’s wrists. “Free gift. Great fit by the way. Excellent design. You need an endorsement, let me know.”

Yaz raised an eyebrow and glared at Patrick. “You handcuffed her? Was that really necessary?”

“She wouldn’t empty her pockets out. How was I to know what she had in them?”

“Can’t have empty pockets. Empty pockets, empty mind,” the Doctor chipped in helpfully. 

Yaz sensed Patrick’s short temper fraying by the second. “Let me have a quick word.”

“Fine.”

She made a point of straightening the already straight stab vest before crossing the space to where the Doctor was sat, squinting slightly into the bright sunlight. 

“Good to see you PC Khan. Looking very professional there.”

Yaz tried to shush the Doctor, so that her voice didn’t carry quite as far.

“When did you get back?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Not sure. Might have been yesterday, day before yesterday. Day before I left possibly. Been a bit pre-occupied.”

“Were you planning on telling the rest of us you were back?”

“TARDIS is at Graham’s. He might have noticed by now, but I’m not sure he ever uses that back garden. Lovely space but he’s not looking after it.”

Yaz folded her arms tightly across her chest at the news. “Graham’s. You went back to Graham’s?”

The Doctor shifted in her seat, her eyes widening. “PC Khan is that jealousy?”

“No.” She tried the protest, but her tone gave her away. “I.. We… we thought you’d gone.”

“Well I had.”

“No… Gone. Gone gone.”

“Said I’d be back… here I am.” She lifted her hands up and her smile dropped as the cuffs came into view. “You’re probably wondering about all this. Misunderstanding. Easily sorted. Probably.”

“PC Khan…a word.” Patrick’s impatient tone broke across their catch-up and Yaz realised that he’d probably caught some of what had been said. She raised a hand. “Stay there. Don’t … do…. Anything.”

“What me?”

Yaz bit her tongue to stop herself replying and stalked back over to where Patrick was glaring at her, arms folded. 

“She say anything?”

Yaz frowned. “You didn’t exactly give me much time to ask her.”

“How long does it take to say…”

“Are you two going to be long? Places to see, people to be.” The Doctor’s voice carried across the space and as Yaz glanced back she noticed that not only was the Doctor no longer sat on the back seat, the cuffs she’d been wearing were now dangling from one of her fingers. “They just sort of fell off,” she apologised. “That endorsement offer might need a rethink.”

“Doctor!” 

“What the…” Patrick’s boots crunched on the gravel as he strode back towards where the Doctor was now perched on the bonnet of his patrol car, her feet spinning lazy circles.

“I’ll put them back on if it makes you feel better.” Yaz offered up a quiet prayer to whoever might be listening to her as she hurriedly positioned herself between Patrick’s anger and the Doctor’s unbowed buoyancy. She placed a restraining hand on Patrick’s chest and hoped the Doctor had the sense to shut up, but she was about to be sorely disappointed as the chipper tone from behind her continued. “Look, see. Lovely fit. Might never take them off. Although the lack of use of the old opposable thumbs might make some things a little tricky.”

“That’s it,” Patrick was up in Yaz’s face. “I was thinking of letting her off, but that just about seals the deal.”

Yaz’s mind raced as she tried to find a way to diffuse the situation. “Have you formally arrested her”

“What?”

“Well, have you?”

Patrick scowled, realising where Yaz was going with her argument. “No.”

“So she shouldn’t have been cuffed in the first place. You’re lucky she’s not the type to pursue a complaint.” Yaz called back over her shoulder. “You’re not going to make a complaint are you?.”

“Complaint? Me? Nah, don’t think so. Not the complaining type.”

Yaz smiled at Patrick. “See, looks as though….” She got no further as the Doctor decided to continue on with her train of thought.

“..Although, go back a regeneration or three..”

Yaz sighed heavily. “Doctor?”

“Yaz?” 

“Shut up.”

There was the sound of a long, faintly sad, breath being let out, and boots kicking back against the paintwork of the patrol car. Great; just what the day needed. One sulky alien.

“You sure she shouldn’t be locked up somewhere?” Patrick wasn’t about to let the matter drop entirely. “Doesn’t seem all that sane to me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Yaz replied as patiently as she could. “She’s just got a … unique outlook on the world.”

“And that ‘unique outlook’ lends itself to her stealing vehicles, does it?”

“What?” 

Patrick indicated the bread delivery van that Yaz had all but forgotten about.

“She was in possession of this van when I apprehended her.”

Yaz looked up to the heavens. The day just kept getting better and better. She turned to face the Doctor who was now pacing slowly, hands pushed deep into pockets, kicking at the gravel; the handcuffs lying forgotten on the bonnet of the car.

“You stole a van?”

“No!” the reply was sullen.

“You were driving it when I pulled you over,” Patrick’s tone was incredulous. “Although ‘driving’ is a bit of a generous term for what you were doing.” He glanced down at Yaz. “Weaving all over the place like she was drunk.” As he said it the thought formed in his head. “Perhaps you’d like to take a breath test?”

“No ta. No good at tests. Better at the practical.”

Patrick grabbed at Yaz’s arm. “Is she trying to wind me up?”

Yaz carefully removed her colleague’s hand from her arm. “She won’t have been drinking. I can promise you that.”

“But she was at the wheel of that baker’s van and she won’t tell me why.”

Yaz turned to face the Doctor. “Please; will you just tell us your side of the story. Then perhaps we can all get on with our respective days.”

The Doctor looked as though she was going to protest, but settled for pacing back and forth a few times before coming to a halt, her feet crunching on the gravel as she faced them both.

“Just want to get a few things straight. For one, I didn’t steal the van, For two, it’s still here, undamaged, un stolen, For four…”

“What happened to three?” Patrick interrupted and was greeted with a sigh.

“Are you always so wedded to order?”

“It is my job madam.”

“Who are you talking to now?” The Doctor looked over her shoulder.

Yaz sighed. “Still you,” she hissed. “Remember?” The Doctor looked at her quizzically for a couple of seconds and then shook her head. 

“Didn’t think I was madam material. Ma’am at a push, definitely not love, never love. But Madam?” She glanced back at Yaz for more guidance. “Do I look old enough to be addressed as Madam, or is this the bit where I should feel insulted?”

“Don’t feel insulted. Just go with it.”

“Right, going with it.” She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck muscles. “Think I’m getting the hang of it.” She nodded at Patrick. “As we were. For four… Now that sounds weird, not sure I like that. Might skip straight to five. That’s even worse, sounds like I’m counting, but not in a sound check sort of way.”

“Doctor!” Yaz’s warning hit its target and the Doctor raised a hand.

“Sorry, rambling. Back on track now. Hang on,” she raised an arm and pointed at something in the distance behind them. “Who’s that? I think he wants the two of you by the look on his face.”

Patrick shook his head. “I’m not falling for that one. You’ve got to try a lot harder than that.”

“Really?” She raised her voice and shouted over them both. “Sorry mate. These guys are busy.”

Patrick felt a pull on his arm. Yaz was trying to get his attention. Against his better judgement he turned on his heel and took in the scarlet faced middle-aged man who was staggering towards them. He did not look happy.

“She stole me van,” the man puffed breathlessly by way of introduction as he arrived on the scene. From the state of him, it looked as though he’d been chasing after the van for some time. He lent over, placed his hands on his knees and took in deep gasping breaths as he struggled for air. “That’s me van. Bloody woman stole me van.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it's silly, but once the idea lodged, it was difficult to shift. Oh, and regarding the naming of things. I moved up to Manchester from London eight years ago and walked into a world of bread-based conflict; the like of which I'd not seen before.  
> Thanks for putting up with a daft first effort from me.

“She’s a bloody lunatic.” The man panted heavily as he tried and failed to get his breath back. “Bloody stole me van.”

  
“Oooh, you big fibber I did no such thing.” The Doctor folded her arms. “I am not having that.”

  
“You did so,” he wheezed as he tried to straighten up, one hand mopping the sweat from his beetroot red face, the other pressed to his side as he battled with a stitch.

“Whilst I hate to bring to a close this fascinating exchange…” Patrick stepped forward and tried to take control of the scene. “Sir, are you saying this woman stole your van?”

“Aye, she did. She pinched me van.”

“I did not!” The Doctor was indignant. She looked at Yaz imploringly. “I did not do that, I would not do that.”

“You pinched me van.”

“I did not pinch it. Borrowed it yes, pinched it no. There is a difference.”

Yaz ran her tongue across her teeth as she thought about how she was going to pose the next question. “The asking to borrow the van part? That was definitely external voice, right?”

“Course it was. Absolutely. Beyond all doubt. That bit of it… never in question. I ….” The Doctor tailed off in exactly the way Yaz had hoped she wouldn’t. “I… Well I… It all happened so fast. There was this…” she glanced out of the corner of her eye to check whether or not Patrick was listening. “There was …let’s just call them … someone … I needed to follow. I’m no slouch when it comes to a bit of a sprint, but he was in a car and I’m good but not that good. I needed an emergency mode of transport and this kind gentleman here let me borrow his van.”

“I did not.”

“See…” She smiled at him. An expression that immediately dropped into a frown as she registered his reply. “What? …Sorry?”

“You pinched me van.”

“Can you stop saying that.”

“But you did. You ran up, waved your arms about, muttered something and then nicked off in me van.” He shook his head. “I got deliveries. I’m gonna be late. I’m gonna be needing, what do they call them? Reparations?” 

The Doctor made a circular motion with her hand.

“Back up a bit… back to that bit where you think I stole your van.”

“You did.. You pinched me van!”

The Doctor frowned and waved away his comments. “I came up yes. We’re agreed on that bit.”

The man looked at her suspiciously. “Aye,”

“And then I asked if I could borrow the van and you said…” She paused and pulled a face as she thought about it a bit more. “… well I’m sure you must have said something, or I wouldn’t have taken it and we wouldn’t be here now having this lovely conversation!”

Yaz buried her head in her hands as the Doctor seemed intent on digging the hole that bit deeper.

“You didn’t say ‘owt that made any sense,” the man protested. “Then you stole me van. That’s my livelihood, that van. You can’t go round stealing people’s vans.”

“I did not steal it,” the Doctor countered. “Absolutely no intent to permanently deprive. C’mon if I was going to steal a vehicle, and I’m not saying I would right? But if I was going to steal something, with all due respect, it would not be a bread van with a top speed of what… forty five, fifty at a push!”

“Sixty!”

“You’re having a laugh. That thing isn’t getting over fifty unless you’re thinking of launching it down the ramp of a ski jump. Now those things are steep!” The Doctor turned her attention back to Yaz. “If I was in the market for a set of stolen wheels, I’d go for something with a bit of go.” She nodded towards a black Mercedes that was parked further down the road. “That for starters. No alarm on it, pitiful central locking, but goes like the clappers. Perfect.”

Yaz closed her eyes and felt the deep throb of a headache forming over her right temple. “Doctor,” she warned. “You are not doing yourself any favours.”

Patrick had heard enough. He ripped open one of the velcro pockets on his belt and pulled out his notebook. He glared at the Doctor and tapped the end of the pen on the first blank page he came to. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly what it was you said to this gentleman.” He turned to address the man, realising that he didn’t know his name. “Mr…” He tailed off and waited for the missing detail to be supplied.

“Hang on there. Hang on there one minute,” the Doctor took a pace forward, pointing a finger first at herself and then at the new arrival. “I get madam and he gets Mr and some polite pausing. Which was well done I have to say. Do they train you how to do that?” Her eyes flicked in Yaz’s direction. “Do they? Did they teach you that as well? It’s very good.” She caught the look on Yaz’s face and then made a concerted effort to concentrate on the matter in hand.

“I called him Mr,” Patrick took advantage of the brief pause in the torrent of dialogue to chip in. “Because, unlike you, I actually think he might be willing to give me a proper name.”

“Doctor is a proper name.”

He turned away from the Doctor as she was mid-fume. “Sir? Your name?”

“Bowler. Ted Bowler.”

“Ted …. Bowler,” Patrick wrote the name down carefully in his book. “How you spelling that sir?”

“In the same way as it’s written in bloody big letters on the side of me van what she nicked.” Ted crossed his arms and glared at the Doctor. “Are you going to do something about her or not?”

“Leave it with me Mr Bowler. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Yaz had heard all the stories regarding PC Patrick Robinson. He was not the most universally loved officer at the station. His tendency to apply the strict letter of the law in cases where things could have been quietly resolved with a quiet talk were well known. The only reason he had the highest arrest rate in the station was because he went for everything that moved. She suspected that the only reason he’d called her, rather than running the Doctor in, was because he didn’t want to do so without being able to put a proper name to his suspect.

She had to make the Doctor realise the seriousness of the situation before he took things to a point where she couldn’t prevent an arrest taking place.

“Have you perhaps got something you’d like to say to Mr Bowler here?”

She’d been hoping that the Doctor would take the hint, but it was a hope that was quickly dashed.

“You might want to take a look at the clutch. Been a while since I last drove; might have been a bit rusty. Mind you if we’re talking about rust; I think that’s the only thing keeping the passenger door in place.”

“Officer. I want her arrested.” Ted’s face was turning scarlet again. This time with frustration. “There’s folks out there going without their daily bread because of the likes of her.”

“You can’t,” the words flew out of Yaz’s mouth before she’d had the chance to back them up with anything.

Patrick, it appeared had heard enough of the situation. “Can’t I? I need you to come up with one good reason why I don’t run your friend here in?”

“Excuse me,” the Doctor held up a hand. “Before we go any further. Running me in; would that come with optional lights and siren?”

Yaz wanted to scream. “No it wouldn’t,” she hissed through gritted teeth before turning her attention to Patrick. “You really want to go through all this with the duty sergeant?”

The colour drained from Patrick’s face and Yaz knew she was onto a winner. 

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Not going to be a world of fun trying to explain this one to him.”

“But I want something done,” Ted insisted, butting his way back into the conversation. “That crazy woman stole me van.”

“Perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement?” Yaz suggested, looking between Ted and the Doctor. “Some sort of compromise that was agreeable to both parties.”

“You arrest her, I’d be agreeable to that,” Ted snapped.

“I was thinking of something a little different,” Yaz replied calmly. “You mentioned reparations.” She turned to the Doctor. “Perhaps there’s something you could do to make it up to Mr Bowler here?”

“I could help you.” The Doctor’s eyes widened as she immediately fell in love with her own idea. “It’d be like community service. I’d be brilliant. Riding shotgun with Tom Bowler… it’d be amazing that.”

“It’s Ted.” The tired way the name was spoken told Yaz this was by no means the first time someone had got his name wrong. Yaz somehow doubted the Doctor had registered a word. She was still caught up in her own little world.

“Driving round, dispensing bread to the masses. Dream job. Would I have to wear the white coat? I’m not sure I’m up for it if the white coat is a necessity. Doctors in white coats.. It’s a bit last century. Or very very scary depending on the Doctor.”

“You’re not setting foot in my van again if I get my way.”

“Ahhh what! That’s not fair.” She was immediately deflated. “Just trying to help. Just trying to… hang on… why don’t you want anyone in your van? What have you got in there anyway?” Yaz was immediately on alert as she recognised the slight change in the Doctor’s stance. 

“Doctor; it’s just a bread van.”

“And we all know that everything is exactly what it appears on the surface, don’t we? Police boxes are just police boxes and bread vans are just bread vans.”

Before Yaz could stop her she’d bounded to the back of the van and thrown open the doors. “See…..” She pulled her sonic from her inside pocket and ran it over the contents of the nearest tray.

“What are you doing to me muffins?” Ted demanded to know.

The Doctor stared at the readings, shook the sonic and tried the next tray.

“I’ll have none of that tampered with. Get out of there now.”

“Doctor!” Yaz held back Patrick, who now had a look on his face that said he was prepared to face whatever would come his way from the duty sergeant if it meant he got to get the Doctor off the streets.

“What’s that thing she’s holding?” Patrick wanted to know. “Told you she was dangerous.”

“Doctor?” Yaz tried again. “Anything?”

The Doctor tried the sonic on a third tray and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a load of bread.”

“What were you expecting?” Ted demanded to know. “It’s a bloody bread van.”

“I know but….bread just can’t be bread.” She slipped the sonic back into her coat pocket. “There’s always….” She snatched up an item from one of the trays and presented it to the small, mostly hostile, crowd as though it was a trophy. “What d’you call this?”

“Doctor… put the…” Yaz chewed her lip to prevent herself finishing the sentence as the Doctor raised an eyebrow and waited for her to name the product. “Put it down.”

“Come on Yaz, play along.” She waved the object for effect. “You. Ted not Tom Bowler… what’s this?” She rounded on Patrick. “And here’s to you PC Robinson. Come on, let’s hear your answers.”

“Just put the barm cake down Madam.”

The van driver stared at Patrick in disgust.

“Barm lad. You don’t know what you’re talking about, that’s a cob.”

“It’s a barm! Look at it.”

“Look at it, I made it, and I’m telling you lad, that there is a cob.”

“Yes!” Pleased with herself the Doctor grinned at Yaz as she jumped back down from the van. “Classic distraction technique. They’ll argue this one forever if you let them. Bread rolls - source of never-ending disagreements the universe over.”

“I don’t think this is helping Doctor,” Yaz warned and immediately felt guilty as the Doctor’s face fell slightly. “I think you should just put it back where you got it from.”

“Can’t.” 

“What?”

Before she could stop her, the Doctor lifted the roll to her mouth and ran her tongue over it. “Rules are rules. Licked it; it’s mine!”

Not knowing what else to do in the circumstances, Yaz buried her head in her hands.

“You can’t do that,” Ted’s voice cracked in disbelief “You can’t go around licking another man’s bread.”

“Just did.”

“But… but… that’s…”

“Theft,” Patrick finished the sentence for Ted and reached to his belt for his cuffs, before remembering they were still lying on the bonnet of his car.

“Not theft if we buy it,” Yaz jumped in quickly.

“And she’s going to buy it, is she?”

Yaz looked at the Doctor, praying she’d take this cue correctly.

“Sure,” the Doctor smiled broadly. “We’ll buy it. We’ll buy the bread.”

“You mean the bread you’re holding?” Yaz was quick to try and get a clarification.

“I mean the bread. All the bread. Why not!”

“What?” Yaz was pretty damned certain that the Doctor wouldn’t be carrying any actual money. She might have deep pockets. They might be full of what she deemed to be really useful things. But her idea of useful things never seemed to include money.

The Doctor beamed at her and pointed back at the van. “Few loaves of bread. What’s the problem? Pretty sure your mum wouldn’t say no to a crusty batch.”

“We’re not buying a van load of bread… what would we do with it all?”

“Ducks. There’s always ducks. We’re at a park, bound to be ducks. Love a good park do ducks.”

“You’re not feeding a van load of fresh bread to a bunch of ducks!” Ted, it appeared was appalled by the suggestion.

“You got something against ducks? You harbouring anti-duck tendencies over there? I mean I know they can be quick to anger, liable to quack under pressure, but underneath it all….” She tailed off. “Nah, actually you’re right. Suspicious little beady-eyed flappers We’ll have to have a rethink.” 

“How about we just buy what you have in your hand and let Mr Bowler here have his van back so he can get on with his day?” Yaz was hoping that a simple solution would seal it. She could see that Ted was still looking less than convinced. “You have your van, and you’ve seen what happens when we try and proceed with anything. How about we just all get back in our cars and I promise you that you’ll never have to see her again?”

“You can promise that, can you?”

“I think we can manage that… don’t you Doctor?” She placed a heavy emphasis on the words.

“Never’s a long time,” the Doctor whispered, but she caught the look Yaz was sending her. “Universe is a big place. Sure we could manage something.”

* * *

  
“You got very lucky there Doctor,” Yaz shook her head as the two other vehicles left the scene. She pointed to her own car. “You want a lift somewhere?”

The Doctor scuffed her boots into the kerb. “Can’t believe he wouldn’t let me lend a hand.”

“Takes years of training, bread delivery,” Yaz tried to placate her friend. “You can’t be an expert at everything.”

The Doctor slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door closed, sulking quietly. 

“Just think yourself lucky. You were pretty close to a short stay at the local station.” Yaz settled herself into the driver’s seat and twisted the key in the ignition. “Before you say anything, no you can’t come for a look round. I’m going to get enough grief off the rest of the relief about this as it is.”

“I suppose I can’t win everything,” the Doctor sighed. “Sometimes you just have to roll with it!” She took a bite from her pilfered bread roll.

Yaz rolled her eyes, waiting for a gap in traffic before nudging the car out onto the main road.

“That’s criminal, oh and by the way…. It’s a bap!”


End file.
